


The Earth's Four Corners

by greenripper (OracleGlass)



Category: Leverage
Genre: Italy, Multi, OT3, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OracleGlass/pseuds/greenripper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sophie knows how to hide, but Tara and Eliot know how to find her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Earth's Four Corners

It may not have been the only reason, but it was a big one - after that blistering, burn-the-bridges fight smack in the middle of the apartment, nobody was feeling settled enough to take a job. In fact, it was more like a mutual decision to run for the hills. That sort of raw emotion getting flung around, all those truths being shaken out and nailed to walls, well...you have a hard time looking anywhere but at your shoes. Nate and Sophie both looked like buildings that had been burned to the ground, and really, none of us were going to be much use on the job for the next little while.

So we all took a break. A hiatus. It’s not like we didn’t have the money for it, and it wasn’t a bad idea anyway, because there was some burnout settling in, some bruises we wanted to nurse in private. We agreed on three months, and went our separate ways. Well, not quite so separate - Hardison and Parker took themselves off to Prague, because Parker wanted really good hot chocolate and some pretty buildings to climb. Nate disappeared into Boston like a cartoon rabbit, pulling the hole in behind him. Sophie had sold her place in Dubai some months back, and was exploring la dolce vita in Italy. As for me,I kicked around Rio for a bit, admiring the ladies in the tiny bikinis and drinking a lot of beer.

I was bored before the month was out. And although I’d rather have my tongue ripped out with pliers than admit it, I missed everybody. Aside from Nate, we stayed in touch - I knew that Hardison and Parker were now in Singapore because Parker wanted satay and chili crabs and a chance to climb the Merlion. Sophie...I was worried about. Our few conversations had been brief, and she had her socialite mask on, where everything was so terribly funny, and so terribly charming, and the weather in Umbria so terribly delightful, but her eyes were hard and there was a brittle edge to her laugh. She just needed to work through things, I knew. She’d get over the hurt, she just needed time. It was none of my damn business, no matter how much pain I could hear in her voice.

So when I found myself planning on my next destination after Rio, I was surprised to find myself flying to Italy, and even more surprised to discover myself boarding a train out of Rome, headed in her direction.

Sophie’s new roost was a pretty little hill town - not one that saw a lot of tourist traffic, but which seemed to hold an infinite number of British expats. Small wonder she was able to blend in without any worries. I took the bus into town from the small train station, and hiked up the steep streets towards the center of the city until I reached the central piazza. There was, as I had expected, a cafe there, sitting across an expanse of grey stone from a huge, severely plain church. I ducked into the cafe, ordered an espresso, and stood at the counter with it, chatting idly with the locals. Sophie would probably hit me if she ever discovered the hand gestures I used to convey who I was looking for, but my Italian isn’t that great, I was short on time, and it seemed to work like a charm. Sophie already had a fan club among the elderly Don Juans that were fixtures there, and soon enough I had been pointed in her direction.

I finished my coffee and meandered through the twisting streets to her apartment, which was apparently built into part of the medieval wall that used to ring the city. While I walked, I was wondering what the hell I’d say to her. “I was worried” was the truth, but it didn’t seem to be enough of an excuse to breach her privacy. And since I didn’t really know why I was here, how was I supposed to explain it to her?

It was at just that moment that I turned the corner and nearly walked right into a tall blonde, who fended me off with an unexpectedly strong shove. Who the hell?

It was Tara. Of course. Why hadn't I guessed she might be worried as well? She laughed at the expression on my face.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Hi, Tara. Been a while.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking down that narrow nose at me with a trace of mockery.

“Here to see Sophie? Well, well. The world is a small place.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing. You’ve been talking with her?”

“Obviously. I couldn’t let her stew here alone, that was clear. And apparently you felt you needed to hop on your white steed and rescue her? How very...interesting.”

I flushed. Tara had a knack of making everything sound so...pointed. “No need to make it out like that. Team’s taking a few months off, she seemed to be struggling a little bit. I just thought I’d come by and check in on her.”

She smiled, and her expression softened. “Let’s check in on her together, then. I just got here. And unlike you, I was smart enough to bring some wine.” She handed off a heavy canvas bag to me, and pressed the buzzer.

A minute passed, and then the deeply carved wooden door opened. Sophie peered out around it. Her eyes widened as she saw us, and for a moment I thought she was going to slam the door and throw the bolt. Instead she sighed and beckoned us in.

Her apartment was amazing. Light filtered in through large windows that had been cleverly set into the ancient stone. The apartment was less ornate and formal than I thought Sophie would have gone for - unfussy, more solid and simple. It was full of art, of course. Vivid modern oils on the walls, blending harmoniously with a small panel from a Renaissance altarpiece consisting of small figures, some haloed, against a crenelated wall. I also saw a few bronzes that I recognized from various museums. My bet was that they weren’t really good copies, either. A pocket-sized stone patio was visible through french doors. As I turned to survey the entire room, Tara took the wine away from me and headed into what I supposed was the kitchen. Lucky guess, or had she been here before?

I sat down and Sophie curled up on the sofa opposite, her face stormy. She didn’t look particularly bad - Sophie would never be the type to resort to sweatpants and unwashed hair, even in the throes of the blackest depression - but she looked like she hadn’t slept well in weeks. She didn’t say anything, but her fingers picked at a seam on the sofa. A tell - and Sophie was usually not one to let that slip.

Tara returned from the kitchen bearing three giant glasses of red wine. She handed one to me and went to sit next to Sophie, who obediently took her glass and stared into the depths of it, as though she could pretend we weren’t there.

I cleared my throat. “Soph...I just figured you sounded a little rough. Parker and Hardison are having the time of their lives, eating their way across the world, but every time I talked to you, you sounded like you were about to break into pieces. So I figured I’d stop by. If you don’t want me here, say so, and I’ll leave.”

Tara glared at me. “Like hell, Spencer. Neither of us are leaving just because Sophie thinks brooding is artistic. I plan to take a more active role.”

“Do I get a say in this, Tara?” Sophie was icy, but it made no impression.

“You get no say, Sophie, because you’ve obviously decided to be a child about this. I’m sorry you and Nate couldn’t work it out. Two giant neurotics, who would ever have guessed? So it hurts, and it’s terrible, and you’re moping, but you’ve used up most of your allotted time. And I know you don’t want to leave your little team of Robin Hoods, so you’re just going to have to come to grips. Now drink some wine and let me tell you what I’ve been up to. You remember that little hotel in Copenhagen, with the married couple that had set up a Lost Heir scenario, and were running it on that banker with the nice suits and the bad toupee? Well, guess what...I came across them in Amsterdam, and they had a new scheme up and running...”

Tara spun out the story effortlessly, and I kept the wine glasses full. After the second glass, Sophie had uncurled a little bit, and Tara had tossed the conversational ball my direction. I unearthed a story I was willing to talk about, and by the end of it and the third glass of wine, Tara was laughing and Sophie was starting to look human again. She had even chuckled once along with Tara, and then caught herself, surprised.

Tara was nestled against her, her shoes kicked off and her feet tucked under. Sophie was leaning on her shoulder, their arms touching, obviously used to being in such close contact with her friend. They were a pretty pair to look at while I talked, Sophie’s dark elegance matched with Tara’s bright energy. As I finished up my story, a comfortable pause fell over us and I sat admiring them and trying not to let let my mind wander from this peaceful moment to anything more...exciting. It was difficult, especially when Sophie sighed and snuggled up a little more closely to Tara, who stroked her hair gently.

Sophie finally broke the silence. “Thanks, you lot. I was so mad at you both when I opened that door. But I’m very grateful you came, as it turns out. I’m sorry I turned into such a teenager.”

“Happens to the best of us.” Tara gave an airy wave. “And we’re staying for a bit, in case you had ideas about getting rid of us. I know you’ve got a spare bedroom in this place.”

Huh. So she had been here before. My brain came up with a dozen tempting scenarios, and I ruthlessly stomped them down. “It sounds like y’all are relegating me to the sofa. No thanks, ladies. I’ll find a hotel.”

Sophie smiled at Tara, then grinned at me. “I’d never do that to a guest, Eliot. You get the spare room. Tara and I have bunked before, in tighter quarters. Remember Odessa?”

“God, I thought I’d never be warm again. If it weren’t for you, I’d have frozen to death. Anything short of making me sleep on the doorstep would be a step up from that.”

The two of them keeping each other warm. It was suddenly really difficult to rein my imagination back from all sorts of delightful speculation. And Tara knew it, damn it, because she was smirking at me. Even Sophie seemed a little brighter at the prospect of teasing me.

Tara stood, bumping Sophie with her hip playfully.

“Go show him to his quarters, Sophie. I’ll wash these glasses. And then, I think we all go out for lunch.” She collected the wine glasses and took them back into the kitchen, and Sophie led me to her spare bedroom. It was tiny, but as impeccably put together as the rest of the house seemed to be, with bright rugs on the floor and a small watercolor of what looked like a Victorian garden.

I set my bag down and once my hands were free, Sophie hugged me, hard. “Thank you, Eliot,” she said, her voice muffled in my jacket.

I hugged her back, registering the spicy scent of her perfume as I did so. “Anything for you, Soph’. I know things have been rough, but we’ll get through it.”

“I really felt like something at the bottom of a well. How obnoxious self-pity is! You find yourself wallowing, and don’t have the energy to pick yourself up. Thank goodness for you and Tara.”

She was relaxed against me, her body long and lean and tucked against me perfectly. The feeling of her body pressed up against mine started to turn from friendly into something else. Little alarm bells went off in the back of my head. I’d thought about me and Sophie together...you’d have had to be a blind idiot otherwise...but this was a different scale of intimate and I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I had a personal code, damnit, and besides, she was with Nate. Had been with Nate. Was with Nate no longer.

Shit.

Luckily, Tara tapped on the door, interrupting the tension in the room.

“Lunch, people. Eating now, hugging later.” She shooed us out, laughing. “I promise you, there will be more hugging later.”

Uh-oh.

***

The little town didn’t offer too many options, so Sophie took us to the small trattoria that had become her regular haunt. Outside, under a leafy pergola, we drank a lot more wine and ate like we hadn’t seen food in months. Sophie seemed to gain animation with every minute and Tara matched her vivacity, the two of them sparking off each other. Sophie’s relationship with the chef got us a selection of incredible cheeses to finish up the meal, and for a long while after we sat in the sun like lazy dogs, full of goodwill.

Afterwards, we strolled through the town, walking off the lunch and already making plans for dinner, which I insisted I’d cook.

“And tomorrow, the market. You’ll be in heaven, Eliot. So much lovely stuff to cook. And Tara and I will be pleased to be your guinea pigs if you’re feeling experimental.”

“I did want to try my hand at stuffed zucchini flowers...”

We returned to the house in sociable quiet. Sophie put on some Bach, poured us all tall glasses of lemonade, and we sat out on the patio. The sun was still high, but it was filtered through a haze of green leaves, leaving us shaded and comfortable. I had a book, and Sophie and Tara were quietly chatting. It was all insanely domestic, but I felt myself responding to it. Tiny knotted muscles seemed to be loosening themselves, in my jaw, down my shoulders, in my lower back. It'd been a long time since I felt peaceful.

After several hours, I wandered into the kitchen and took my time creating a really fucking incredible dinner, if I did say so myself. We ate out on the patio, devouring prosciutto with melon and fig jam, eggplant with goat cheese, a variety of roasted vegetables, and tiny grilled lamb chops. Then another walk, joining the evening procession of people in the piazza out laughing, talking, eating ice cream, being social. I was on the receiving end of a lot of envious glances from the men out and about, having a stunner on each arm as I did, and Sophie and Tara twitted me about it mercilessly. I did a lot of smirking. The ladies let their fingers run along my forearms from time to time, before running ahead of me and whispering to each other like schoolgirls. I began to think that putting myself in their hands and not worrying about things for a while was the smartest thing I had ever done. I had been here on a rescue mission for Sophie, hadn't I? But I felt like it was doing me a lot of good as well.

We got back to Sophie’s apartment, and argued about who got the shower first. I lost, and showered last, scrubbing myself down in a bathroom already filled with steam that smelled of vanilla and spice. I caught a glimpse of myself in the small vanity mirror, a strange sight in Sophie’s dainy bathroom - all shoulders and scars and stubble. I sighed, tied the towel around my waist, and opened the door, meaning to head into my bedroom and sleep like the dead.

They were waiting for me, like two cats outside a mousehole. Sophie was posed languidly on the bed, wearing a tiny negligee of black satin that left just enough to the imagination to make it interesting. Tara knelt behind her, pale and delicately curved in an ice-blue bra that was essentially transparent. Her hand was on Sophie’s hip. They looked like a pair of delicate confections, but the expression they both wore as they looked at me suggested that I was the one scheduled to be devoured.

My mouth went dry.

“Eliot,” purred Sophie. “You take long showers. We were starting to get bored.”

“At least he’s clean all over,” said Tara. “That’s a good thing.”

“Are you going to stand there looking like an idiot, Eliot? Join us, won’t you? Tara is determined that I stop feeling sorry for myself. You’re going to be part of the cure.”

I may have managed to stutter something. It probably didn’t make any sense. My higher functions shut down and my reptile brain took over, sending me stumbling towards the bed because there really wasn’t any other option left to me. Arms reached out and I was pulled forward into a soft tumble of femininity.

I wound up lying sprawled in Sophie’s lap, my head cradled on her thigh. She bent down and kissed my forehead, cool fingers stroking down the sides of my head. Her hair tumbled around my face, which meant I didn’t see the exact moment that Tara removed my towel. I did hear a pleased noise, then a soft giggle from Sophie, right before nearly falling off the bed as Tara’s mouth came down over my cock. It was a lush, warm sensation that made me stretch and gasp, my toes curling.

I made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan, and Sophie chuckled, kissed me again, and gently lowered my head onto a pillow. She knee-walked over to unhook Tara’s bra and slide it off her. Tara sat up, leaving me momentarily bereft, but the sight of her kissing Sophie, then helping her wriggle out of her nightie, more than made up for it. They were clenched tightly together, mouths open and hungry, both of Sophie’s hands splayed out against Tara’s lower back.

Unconsciously, I slid my hand down and wrapped it around my cock, stroking myself as I watched them. They were lost in each other for several minutes, swaying back and forth, oblivious to everything. Eventually Sophie pulled back, her mouth reddened, her voice ragged.

“Mmm. We’re neglecting our guest, love.” She slid a caressing hand down Tara’s cheek, gave her a final kiss to the side of her mouth, and turned to me, eyes dark. “We’re making you work too hard, Eliot. Let me help.”

She moved my hand away and took my cock herself, deft fingers sliding up and down, cupping, stroking. With graceful ease, she straddled me and sank herself down, lowering herself in agonizing inches until I broke, grabbed her hips, and bucked upwards, driving myself into her completely. She let out a startled little noise, and braced herself against my chest, trembling.

“That’s so good, Eliot,” she whispered. “So good.” She moved her hips, keeping me locked between her thighs, and I moved with her, matching her pace. She whimpered faintly, and Tara leaned in and smothered her noises by kissing her again, her hands exploring Sophie’s breasts. She was already on the crest, and within a few minutes of being locked together, I felt her shudder from head to toe, crying out against Tara’s mouth. She sagged against Tara, who eased her back, kissing her, whispering soft endearments against her cheek. Sophie stretched out next to me, wriggling her head under my arm so she could lie on my shoulder, her body as damp with sweat as mine was. I breathed in the scent of her, that spicy fragrance so familiar from all the days she’d been a partner, an ally, a friend at my back. I explored the curve of her ear with my tongue and she laughed breathlessly.

“Not...done with you...quite yet, darling.”

And there was Tara’s mouth, hot and strong, Sophie whispering encouragements to her that were positively filthy and made me even hotter than before. I tangled one hand in Tara’s silky hair as Sophie ran a hand down along my stomach, feeling it clench. I came with my teeth clenched, growling deep in my throat, feeling like I was flying apart into pieces.

For a long, long, moment, it was very quiet in the small bedroom. I was dimly aware that Sophie had pulled Tara up against her, and had slid clever fingers between Tara’s thighs. I heard Tara gasp, whispering Sophie’s name, and the two of them fell against each other, panting. The last thing I remember from that night was a hazy vision of the two of them slipping off to their own bed, hand in hand.

*****

Golden sunlight woke me, along with actual birdsong. Oh, and the smell of coffee, floating deliciously.. I stretched, feeling every muscle at ease. Every damn thing in the world was wonderful. Slinging on a pair of gym shorts, I ambled into the bathroom, washed, shaved, and brushed my teeth, and then followed the coffee smell into the kitchen. The ladies were out on the back patio. They were rosy in the morning light, fresh-faced, a long way away from the vixens I so recently had encountered Then their eyes met mine. Twin smiles crept over their faces, and certain events from the previous evening shot through my brain. They knew it, too, and laughingly relented...mostly.

“Sit down, darling. You’re looking a little pale. Did you not sleep well?”

Tara pursed her lips, looking me over. “I don’t know, Sophie. He looks peaky. Like he’s overexerted himself.”

“Ladies,”I said, sitting down in the last chair. “I have not yet begun to exert myself, let alone overexert. And I will prove it in any way you wish, and at any time.”

Tara’s eyes brightened. “We’ll hold you to that, you know.”

Sophie chortled. “He’d be so disappointed if we didn’t.”

“That is definitely the case.” I grinned at them both, sipping my coffee.  
Sophie put her chin in her hand, tapping her fingers against her cheek, and looked at me and Tara both. The slightest line of fretting appeared between her eyebrows. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, I cut in.

“Soph. Hold off for a second. I see all the questions you’re about to ask. I have a suggestion instead. Two more weeks. Give it two more weeks, and then we can think about all the difficult stuff. You deserve it.” I turned to Tara for support. “That’s reasonable, right?”

Tara smiled at Sophie. “I think the man has a good plan, Sophie. You have a lot to think about, but you have time. Let it go for a few weeks. Just be here with us.”

Sophie bit at a cuticle, an anxious habit she only indulged on the rarest of occasions. I had seen it twice over the years we had been working together. “But...” she started, and then trailed off again. “I...well. Well. I suppose...that would be lovely, actually.”

“Two weeks, and Eliot cooks dinner every night?” Tara’s voice was hopeful.

“Done and done.” I put my hand down on the table, and Tara covered it with her own. After a moment, Sophie’s hand came down on both of ours.

“Done.”


End file.
